Face Down
by Writingiswhatiam
Summary: Ellie's new boyfriend is perfect. Perfectly dangerous.Eventual JesseEllieOC.
1. The Signs

I met Damien two weeks after Jesse and I broke up. He was really sweet and sexy and romantic, so it didn't take long for things to get serious. We would stay up all night in his apartment, just talking and spending time together. It felt like he really understood what I was talking about when I droned on and on about how girls today sell themselves out or how important it is for adults to actually listn to teenagers. I guess there were signs that I missed, though, like how he really hated that I still worked with Jesse, and how he gave me the third degree when it came to Marco. We'd never really fought about any of these things, so I just assumed it was the normal jealousy that comes with some relationships. By the time I realized what was going on it was too late to turn back.

We were in his apartment one night, talking over cartons of Chinese and a movie. "I've got to go to bed early tonight," I mentioned. "I've got a big assignment at The Core?"

"I really wish you'd quit that thing," he murmered. "It's stupid to still work with your ex."

"I'm not going to quit The Core, it's my dream," I said. "I'm sorry it makes you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" He scoffed. "Your ex is still trying to get in your pants, its a little more than uncomfortable."

"Damien, that is so not how it is. Jesse hasn't done anything."

"So you're defending him now, too?"

"What?"

"Well I guess if you want to sleep with him, that's your choice, but he doesn't care about you at all. It's all he wants."

"Okay first of all, I don't want to sleep with anybody and second of all, you have no right to tell me who cares about me and who doesn't."

"Don't take that tone with me," he snapped.

I stood up, "I don't have to take this. Why don't you call me if you ever grow up?" I walked over to the door.

Before I knew what was going on, he was on his feet and behind me. He grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. "Don't ever say anything like that to me again."

"Damien, what the hell are you doing?" His grip tightened.

"You're hurting me, let go," I said. I was really scared. I'd never seen him look like this before. His normally friendly blue eyes had turned cold, and all of the humanity seemed to be gone.

He let go and stepped back. "I'm sorry," he said. "I got a little upset."

I took a deep breath and held back the mean things I wanted to say to him. "I just think I should go home."

I unlocked the door to the apartment I shared with Marco and Dylan. They were sitting on the couch, watching a hockey game that I could tell Marco wasn't in to.

"Hey, Ell," Marco said as I headed up the stairs. "How'd your date go?"

"It was fine, but I'm tired, so I'm just going to go to bed." I took off the shirt I'd been wearing and changed into a tank-top and my pajama pants. I looked in the mirror, my arms were really red where he had grabbed me at.

Marco opened the door to my room. "You don't think you're going to get away with that do you? Come on, give me details."

"I said it was fine," I sat down on the bed.

His eyes narrowed. "What happened to your arms."

I looked down at them. "Oh, he was just...teaching me some self-defense moves, and in order to do that, he had to pretend to attack me."

"Oh," he said. I'm not sure if he believed me or not, but it got him off of my back for a little while.

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	2. Escalating

Thinking back about everything, I should have just dumped Damien that night. I never should have listened to him say he was sorry, or accept the flowers as an apology. But I did. I figured that everyone loses their temper sometimes. I ignored everything I'd been taught about how violence always escalates, and I forgave him. I shouldn't have.

We had gone to the video store to rent a DVD, and as we were looking through the sections, we ran into Jesse. I had to admit that I missed him pretty bad. And when I saw him there, I just wanted to go be with him.

"Hey, Nash," he said to me.

"Hi, Jesse," I said back to him. "This is Damien."

It was really awkward. "So, how have you been?" he asked.

"Good," I said. I started to return the question, but Damien grabbed my arm.

"Let's go, Ellie," he said. He started to pull me towards the door.

I wanted to object, but I didn't want to set him off. Damien walked behind me, guiding me out the door. When I opened the door, he pushed me and I stumbled a little bit.

"Why did you have to embarrass me like that?" I asked once we were at his car.

"Why do you care if I embarrass you in front of him or not?"

"I don't...I just think it was rude."

"What's rude is undressing him with your eyes while I'm standing right there," he shouted.

"Damien, calm down...I wasn't..."

"Don't tell me to calm down," he shouted, and then he did something I never would have expected from him. He punched me in the face.

Shocked, I raised my hand to my the eye that he had hit. I just looked up at him. I felt betrayed. I didn't even know what to say or what to do. I wanted to cry. I couldn't believe he had actually hit me.

"Get in the car," he said, twisting my arm to make me turn around. He barely waited until I got inside before he slammed the door shut.

He got in on his side and started the car.

"Please take me home," I asked him.

He looked at me, and I swear I thought he was going to hit me again, but instead he started the car and headed to the apartment.

When I woke up the next morning, the whole side of my face was sore. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I had a light bruise where he'd punched me at. The last thing I needed was to be seen with a black eye.

I tried to cover it up with make-up but you could stil see it a little bit, so I put on a pair of my big sunglasses and left the house before Marco could ask questions.

I was mega-self-conscious when I walked into the newsroom at The Core. I just wanted to look at the assignment board and leave. So I jotted down the assignment and headed for the door.

"Nash," I heard Jesse's voice from behind me. "Can we talk in my office for a minute?"

"Actually, I'm kind of busy right now," I told him as I turned around.

"It won't take long."

I sighed and followed him to the office.

"What was up with all of that last night?" he asked me.

"Nothing...we were late getting somewhere."

He sat on the edge of his desk. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," he said. "Then take off your sunglasses."

I hesitated, and he reached up and took them off.

"Did he do this to you?"

I didn't know what to say. "No...it was an accident, with the door, it's a long story," I rambled.

"An accident? Is that what he says to you?"

"I really resent these assumptions, Jesse," I told him. "It's nothing, and its none of your business."

He stood up and took a couple of steps toward me. He traced the outline of the bruise with his fingertips. "You deserve better than this, Ell."

"I'm fine," I said again. I took my sunglasses from him and tried to leave.

"Wait," he said, gently grabbing my shoulder. "If you need me, call me."

I looked at him for a second and then I left. 


	3. Violence Exposed

After the incident outside the video store, things cooled down for awhile. Damien went back to being his loving, charming self. I thought it had stopped, that it was just something that happened and would never happen again. It wouldn't be long before I recognized the cycle.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, studying with Marco, when the doorbell rang. Dylan answered it, and followed Damien into the kitchen.

"Ellie, your boyfriend's here," Dylan teased.

"Hey, Damien," I said, "Just give me a second and then we can go," I said as I finished looking over the notes with Marco.

"I'm really dreading that exam," Marco said as he stood up.

"Marco, you'll do great. You always do," I said to him. "You ready to go?" I asked Damien as I walked up to him.

"See you guys later," Marco said as he and Dylan went upstairs.

"Don't ever do that again," he said, getting that terrifying look in his eyes again.

"Do what?" I asked, backing away from him a little.

"Don't put that faggot before me," he said.

"Hey," I snapped at him, "Marco is my best friend, don't ever call him that again."

He backhanded me across the face. It hurt really, really bad. "Don't tell me what to do." He grabbed my arms and shoved me against the wall.

"What the hell's going on here?" Marco stood in the doorway with Dylan behind him. They both looked shocked.

"Stay out of this, fag," he shouted.

"I said don't call him that," I yelled. I shouldn't have said anything, because then he hit me again, this time right across my mouth.

"Don't ever come back here again," Dylan said, grabbing Damiens arm and throwing him out the door.

"Ellie, how long has this been going on?" Marco asked, coming to my side.

I didn't know what to say. I was still in shock, and in pain. I tried to hold the tears back but a few escaped. I felt the bitter taste of blood in my mouth and I realized that he'd probably busted my lip. "I don't know...a month, maybe?" I said. "It's usually not this bad, its only happened a couple of times."

"It's okay now," he said. "He wont bother you again."

I knew that he would.

The next day, I ran into Jesse in the hallway outside the newsroom. He looked upset when he saw what Damien had done to my face.

"Oh my God, Ellie, you said you were okay," he said.

"I am, I'm fine. It just kind of happened, you know," I looked away.

"Things like this don't 'just kind of happen'," he said. "This could get really dangerous. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I said. "I promise." I walked past him. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't handle the look of disappointment on his face. 


	4. I'm not like Terri

As I walked down the steps of the Student Association Building, I saw Damien standing on the sidewalk. I didn't want to talk to him, so I walked by him as quickly as I could.

"Ellie, wait," he said, catching up to me.

"Go away, Damien," I told him. "I'm not interested."

"Ellie, wait, let me explain."

I stopped and turned on him. "Explain what?" I demanded. "Explain why you blew up at me for no reason, explain why you humiliated me in front of my friends and insulted them? Tell me, Damien, what exactly would you like to explain?"

"All of it," he said, gently grabbing my hands. "I'm so sorry. It's just that you're so beautiful, and way out of my league. I guess I'm just always worried about losing you. That's all it was. And you and Marco are so close, I just got kind of jealous, because I want us to be that close, and I realized that we weren't. I'm sorry I lost my temper, I really am."

"I didn't deserve it," I told him.

"I know you didn't, baby, and I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I swear it wont ever happen again."

Part of me knew that he was just trying to get me back, and that it would happen again. The other part of me believed him, and it was that part that said, "If you ever hit me again, I'm going to press charges."

He nodded his head in understanding and threw his arms around me to hug me. Inside, I winced at his touch. I didn't love him, and I didn't know why I stayed. Maybe on some level, I felt like I deserved to be hit. Maybe I was too afraid to stay away from him.

"Ellie, what the hell are you doing?" Marco asked when he saw Damien drop me off that evening.

"Marco, it's okay, he apologized," I told him.

"Of course he apologized, but it'll happen again, Ellie."

"And if it does, I'll leave him. It's really not a big deal."

"How can you say that? And after what happened to Terri," Marco said.

"I'm not like Terri," I told him. "I'm stronger than she was."

"Oh really? Look at yourself now, you're exactly like her. And if you're not carefull, you'll end up exactly like she did." Marco said, slamming the door to my bedroom as he left. 


	5. The beating

Damien had promised that it would never happen again. And it didn't, for a couple of days anyway. To this day, I still don't know how the fight got so bad, or how everything got so out of hand.

We were at his apartment one friday night. We had plans to go to a club, but he had decided that we should stay in for the night. The Core was my life, so like an idiot, I started talking about what Jesse had said about an article I had written. He went off.

"You're still in love with him, aren't you?" he accused.

"What?" I asked. "Damien, what are you talking about?"

"You heard me," he yelled, grabbing a handfull of my hair, he pulled my head back so hard, I swear I thought my neck was going to snap. "You're still in love with him," he yelled right into my ear. "Aren't you," he shook me really hard.

"No," I said, trying not to cry. "No, I'm not still in love with him."

"You're lying," he said.

"No, Damien, I'm not. I'm not lying," I said. "Please, just let me go. You're hurting me," I was trying my best to stay calm, because it'd be worse if I didn't.

"Let you go? Fine I'll let you go," he let me go with a shove, causing me to fall to the ground.

I looked up at him, afraid to move, wondering what he was going to do next. He kicked me in the face, then in the stomach. I tried to get away, and to protect my body, but none of it really worked, because when I would cover my face, he would pull my arms away and punch me, and when I curled up into a fetal position to try to keep my body protected, he picked me up by my arms and slammed me against the wall. Then he punched me in the stomach and pulled me to the door by my hair. The whole time he was calling me a liar, or a slut, or accusing me of sleeping with Jesse. He said I didn't really love him, and that I was useless. When he was finally done, after at least 20 minutes of constantly hitting or kicking me, he told me to get out.

I was thankful that he had told me to leave. I was so relieved, that for a second, I didn't feel any of the pain. I didn't know where to go. I couldn't go home and let Marco and Dylan see me like this, it was way too embarrassing. So I just wondered around, walking the sidewalk. With every couple of steps, I felt a sharp pain in my side. I think he might have broken one of my ribs. I had tried not to cry, but it was so hard that I had given up.

I found myself outside of Jesse's apartment. I didn't know what else to do, so I raised my hand and knocked on the door.

When he opened the door, he was shocked. "Oh my god, Ellie," was all it looked like he could say. "What the hell has that bastard done to you?"

"I don't know what happened," I told him. "One second we're just talking and the next he completely lost it."

He led me to the couch and helped me sit down. "Do you want me to call the cops?" he asked, going into the bathroom.

"No, no way," I said. "It would be way too stupid."

He came back in with a wet washcloth, some peroxide and a towel. "Damnit, Ellie," he muttered, "I can't believe he did this to you. What the hell is his problem? He's like twice your size, he doesn't have to hit you." He knelt down in front of me, and put the washcloth on my busted lip and a scrape I had on my cheekbone.

"It was my fault," I said, "I started talking about the newspaper and I shouldn't have."

"That's an excuse to get jealous, not to beat the crap out of you." He poured some peroxide on the dry cloth and held it against the scrape on my face. "I want to kill him."

"No," I said. "Fighting violence with violence isn't the answer."

"What else did he do to you?"

"I don't remember a lot of it," I said. "I think I might have blacked out or something. I don't know. But I remember that he kicked me," I leaned back and pulled my shirt up to the top of my ribcage. The majority of my ribs and abdomen were purple and red.

"Oh my God," was all he could say. "Ellie, come back to me. I'll treat you better."

"Jesse, you don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"I'm scared. I'm really scared."

He sat next to me on the couch. "We don't have to talk about it," he put his arm around me and I leaned against him. He wrapped his other arm around me too. "You're safe now," he said softly. 


	6. I wanna be Jessies Girl

I felt so safe here, in Jesse's arms. I felt like, for a while at least, Damien couldn't touch me or hurt me. I wanted it to last forever. As I looked up at him, I saw the pain and the love in his eyes. I wondered why I had let my fascination with Craig ruin our relationship. Why hadn't I gone back to him that day I left Craig at the airport? Why had I just let things hang in the air, unfinished? I had feelings for Craig, but Jesse was there for me. He wasn't over the top, 'I'm gonna kick his ass', he concentrated on making me feel better and comforted, rather than getting justice. That made me fall in love with him. 

He was always so understanding, too. Like in the newsroom that day, when he wanted to go to his place, and I wasn't ready for sex yet. He didn't get mad, or frustrated. He just smiled and said, "That's cool. Later, Frosh." He was older, and I guess that's what made it different. He was more mature about it. He knew that I wasn't ready, without my having to say it. But I was ready now.

I lifted my head up and kissed him gently. He kissed me back, just as gently, as if trying not to hurt me. I slid my hands underneath his shirt and pulled it over his head, kissing his neck and shoulders and working my way back to his lips.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, "I mean, I don't want to take advantage of you. You're vulnerable since Damien..."

"This isn't about Damien," I interupted him. "This is about us, and how you treat me. It's about how I look in your eyes and know you would never hit me, and how you're worried and the way you touch me. This is about how I love you." I kissed him again.

He carried me to the bedroom and lay me down on the bed. He gently kissed all of my bruises, and traced the outline of my tips with the tips of his fingers. I'd never in my life felt as close or connected to somebody as I did right now, making love to Jesse.

When we had finished, I lay in his arms for the longest time. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to ruin the moment. He gently rubbed my back--the only part of my body that wasn't sore. I was so calm, so peaceful. I was happy. He kissed my forehead and brushed some hair out of my eyes. Our eyes met and he smiled at me. There was no need for words.

The next morning, I woke up in his arms. He was looking down at me.

"What?" I asked, yawning.

"I'm just looking at you," he said.

"Yeah, I bet I look really attractive, all black and blue," I said sarcastically. I sat up, the sheet covering my body.

"It's sad, actually," he said, "that a guy would try to disfigure someone as beautiful as you. But at least you don't have to deal with him anymore."

"It's not that simple, Jesse," I told him, standing up to get dressed. It hurt to raise my arms above my head.

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing up and pulling his jeans on. "You're not going back to him, are you?"

"I don't have a choice," I told him. "He beat me up this badly for talking about you. Imagine what he'd do if I dated you."

"Ellie, I'll protect you. Just let me handle it," he said.

"Please don't start with the alpha-male stuff," I said. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I can't leave him."

"Do you know how _'typical battered woman'_ you sound?"

"I am not a battered woman," I said to him.

"Ellie look at yourself," he exclaimed.

I winced at the volume of his voice.

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about," he said.

"Jesse, please, just understand," I begged, not wanting to argue.

"No, Ellie," he said. "I'll never understand. You're safe here, why are you going back to him?"

"No, Jesse," I said, my voice cracking, "I'm not safe here. I'm not safe here, or at home, or with him, or even in the middle of a police station, because no matter what, he'll always find a way to hurt me." I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, "I just don't see why you should get hurt in the process."


	7. To be loved

I hesitated at the door, not wanting to see Marco's reaction to my bruises. I put my key in and turned the door knob. It opened and I stepped inside. 

"Ellie? Is that you when you didn't come home I was wor--" Marco said, coming around the corner. "Ellie, oh my god."

"I'm okay," I reassured him. "I stayed the night at Jessie's," I set my bag on the floor. "After this happened," I added.

"We're taking you to the hospital," Marco said.

"Marco, no," I told him. "I'm fine."

"Its not negotiable," he told me. "Dylan," he called.

"Marco, please don't..." I started to say.

"You're bvrain could be bleeding, you might have broken ribs, did you know that broken ribs can puncture your lungs?" He rattled as Dylan came downstairs and gaped.

"I don't have the strength to fight with you on this," I told him.

"Then don't," Dylan said. "I'll pull the car closer."

Dylan went outside and pulled the car up.

"If I ever see him again," Marco said, "I'll kill that son of a bitch."

I wanted to say something, but there was nothing I could say. Part of me wanted Marco to kill him.

The Emergency Room was full, but I must have looked pretty bad, because they took me straight back to see the doctor. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet, because I knew if I had I would have never gone out in public. I was so ashamed. I was ashamed that I had fallen prey to this kind of abuse. I was ashamed that I hadn't been strong enough to fight him off. I was ashamed to be one of those women. Those women who leave and go back and leave and go back.

"What happened?" The nurse said as she took my blood pressuer.

"I fell," I told her.

She looked at me overtop of her frameless glasses as she jotted the blood pressuere down. She put her fingers on my wrist to take my pulse. "You're not the first, you know?" She said. "To protect the guy, I mean."

"It was an accident," I told her. "I shouldn't have gone back." Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but a few fell.

"I have some pamphlets that I can give you," she said. "Statistics, survival rates and all."

_Survival rates_. The words rang in my mind. It had never occured to me that women had died do to this kind of abuse. "That's okay," I told her. "It's not going to happen again."

She handed me three pamphlets. "Unless you leave him, it's always going to happen again."

I took them from her and she left the room to get the doctor. They ran X-rays and CAT-scans, they even tested my blood. "Do we need to do a rape-kit?" the doctor asked.

I shook my head, remembering what had happened with Jesse the night before. "No," I told them.

All of the tests came back clean, there were no broken bones and no cerebral bleeding. The doctor wrote me a perscription for Vicodin. We stopped by the pharmacy on the way home, and Dylan ran in for me.

"I'm so sorry that this happened," Marco said to me from the front seat.

"It hurts," I confided. "My _whole_ body hurts."

"The pain-medicine will help with that," he told me.

"I slept with Jessie last night," I blurted out.

"Hoe'd it feel?" Marco asked. "To be loved."

"Amazing," I said, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. "It felt amazing."

Dylan came out and handed me the medicine and a bottle of Pepsi. I took the first two of the Vicodin, hoping they would kill the emotional pain as well.

I must have fallen asleep before we got home, because the next thing I knew i was tucked into my bed. I felt groggy from the pain medicine. I vaguely remembered Dylan carrying me inside and taking me into my bedroom. Bits and pieces of the fight came back to me and I huddled under the covers, but it hurt. I looked at my watch. It was time for more pain medicine. I didnt have anything to drink, so I limped down the stairs to get some water.

"What are you doing up?" Marco asked me when I came in.

"I needed some water to take my medicine," I said.

"But you're so sleepy, you could have fallen down the steps or something."

"Marco, I just faced the boyfriend from hell, I think I can handle a few stairs."

"Okay, fine, just next time you need something, call me," he said, pouring a glass of water from the tap.

I took a drink and turned toward my room. "Can you come help me change?" I asked quietly. Again, I was ashamed. I was ashamed that Damien had beaten me up so badly that I had to ask my gay-best friend to help me change. I was pathetic.

"Yeah," he said, "of course."

He followed me up to my room and shut the door.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Marco told me, "this isn't your fault."

He peeled my shirt off and tried not to look shocked.

"It's bad, isn't it?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I swear I'm never talking to him again."

"We should call the police," Marco said, helping me put my t-shirt on. I unbottoned my pants and he helped me take them off. It was _sooo_ humiliating. I sat on the bed and he pulled the pair of boxers I slept in up to my knees and I pulled them up the rest of the way.

I climbed back into bed. "Thanks, Marco," I said.

He brushed some hair out of my face. "Anytime," he said.

After he left the room, I fell back to sleep. For the rest of the day, I drifted in and out of consciousness, taking my medicine every four hours like directed. Now I knew why mom drank. Sleeping was the best way to avoid the pain.


End file.
